Birth Day

A poem that got rejected from a magazine I submitted to.


It was the day, existence climbed out
In front and under the buttocks
And burrowed through a little worm hole
And found himself in a different galaxy
And that was my birth day

This world was noisy was the first thought
Light was the first premonition
Breast mountain was the first promenade
And that little tip of the snowcap
Would soon flow like a glacier

Still it was beautiful, the yellow droplets
That gave way to a white fluid that became my first taste.
A little dance of my buttock cheeks, was passing a little solid
The caterpillars that leaped out like butterflies
And I was only a little glowworm
A firefly to the still eyes that stare, giving
Me a little stage fright.

My tiny head
Was insulated by patches of lichen tendrils
Although planet temple was a little heavy
On the sides, falling everywhere, mantle
Was as soft as the behind and core, as gentle
As a rabbit’s fur ball coat.

And I was trying to make sense
How my lips would squeeze out a little fluid
And my nappy was wet at times
And I knew, life would be a riddle
Of magnifying glasses and reflective mirrors
A puzzle that fills out its own little pieces
And time would be the only essence

I would become a pathfinder and every junction
Had many crossroads – And I grew to kiss a pair of feminine lips
And suckle the tip of a woman’s breast.

We are all born the same way
Yet what defines us in life, are the little tips and ledges
That are held by our lips. And that choice
Is what liberates us from a little shackle
A little leash that chains our hearts.

Love is only a passport carried by choice.
And the fallen man, makes love to his chosen life form
Burning a little over 70 calories, wearing only
His stitch at birth. Yin and Yang, Yin and Yin
Or Yang and Yang, we are all defined by
Who are lips hold when we are dancing
In our birthday suits.

Birth day was the day I found my stitch and my lips.
Love is what perpetuates it.

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